


It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by theRavenMuse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Almost everyone dies, And The One Who Lives Wishes He Didn't, Angst, Canon Compliant - TV, Christmas, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, For Somebody's Sake Mind The Tags, Graphic Depictions of Corpses, Horror, M/M, No Beta - We Fall Like Crowley (But Hopefully We Don't Release the Demon of Yule), Not A Happy Ending, People Get Eaten Alive, Post not-pocalypse, Seriously Do Not Eat This, This Fic Created A Dark Piece of My Soul That I Don't Think Existed Before, corpse mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28200087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRavenMuse/pseuds/theRavenMuse
Summary: There'll be scary ghost storiesAnd tales of the glories ofChristmases long, long ago
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Four Chapters, all written and edited. I'll be posting one a day from today through the 23. I'll try to post around 2 PM Chicago time (8 London time) so everyone can read when it first publishes. 
> 
> Mind the tags  
> Seriously, please mind the tags  
> Behave yourselves  
> Because I didn’t

Crowley blinked open his eyes and rubbed the sleepy grit out of them. His cocoon of blankets was warm. His alarm wasn’t blaring. Why in Hell was he awake? He stuck an arm out of the warm bundle and fumbled to find his watch on the nightstand. He pulled it back into the warmth to peer at it. 8:14 A.M, Dec 23. Crowley groaned. He wasn’t supposed to wake up until tomorrow. Aziraphale had insisted that he had ‘work’ to do today and had all but banished Crowley from the bookshop. Of course, not before tacking on, “I’m sure you can find some trouble to get into without me.” Crowley had, instead, resolved to sleep through the day. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Sleep, however, was busy elsewhere. He tossed and turned with increasingly frustrated grumbles. Finally, at 9:32 A.M, he surrendered to the world of consciousness. 

Crowley wrapped his bundle of blankets around himself and carried the warm cocoon with him as he padded barefoot into the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass from the cabinet and poured himself a generous portion of the amber liquid. He threw it back and begrudgingly put the bottle away. He was not in the mood to get properly drunk. If he did, he’d probably do something stupid like drive over to the bookshop and lurk outside the window where he could watch Aziraphale without being seen. He rinsed out the glass and put it back without properly washing it. He was evil, after all, and this was proper evil behavior. Of course, he would regret it when he next tried to drink from the glass and found it dirty. Evil always sows the seeds of its own destruction. That was what Aziraphale had said. 

_ Aziraphale. _ Crowley groaned and slumped his way over to his throne where he collapsed into a slim tangle of boneless limbs. He scrolled absentmindedly through the plethora of social media feeds on his phone. The infinite scroll; one of the more admirable of humanities evil creations. A story caught his eye. It was one of those posts that mothers make, repeating whatever silly things their kids had said. This one read,  _ How does Santa keep track of all of the kids presents? What if mine gets mixed up with someone else's this year? _ Crowley scoffed, and then paused to consider, and then an idea started to form. A truly wily idea. He grinned. Maybe today wasn’t going to be a total dud after all. If Aziraphale could work then so could he. 

Crowley filled a cardboard box with various evil implements, including, but certainly not limited to, whoopie cushions, slime balls, and glitter bombs. Box tucked under one arm, Crowley sauntered down to the street. “Alright, Bentley, it’s the eve of Christmas eve and we’re going to cause a bit of trouble. How does that sound?” Crowley set the box in the passenger seat, it would be his companion for the day instead of Aziraphale, and slid himself into the seat behind the wheel. 

Crowley escaped the busy streets of London and aimed the Bentley north. Free from the city, he was immediately bored of the lack of noise and slid a CD of Christmas classics into the player. Andy Williams’ “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” started playing but morphed abruptly into “Another One Bites the Dust” about halfway through. Crowley pretended not to notice as he drummed his fingers to the beat.

He shouldn’t have been able to drive his Bentley to the North pole, but he had driven it over the flaming M25 so nothing was off limits anymore. He also shouldn’t have been able to make the drive in any less than twenty hours, even with the reckless speed he was keeping, but he pulled into the convenient parking lot at the edge of the elven town before London made it to noon. He had no idea what time it technically was here and trying to figure it out was hurting his brain so he decided to ignore the question for now. 

It was colder here than it had been in London, but Crowley had come prepared. He wore snow boots and insulating pants, both of which he stuffed with portable heat pads. He also had a thick fur, fake of course, coat that kept the chilly wind out and the snakey demon inside toasty warm. The final touches were a matching hat and set of gloves, hand knit by Aziraphale last christmas and miracled to stay warm. He pulled the hat all the way down over his ears and flipped the hood of his coat up over it to guard his neck. Crowley slid on his sunglasses as a final step and slipped into the outskirts of the pole with his box of goodies, er, baddies, tucked under one arm.

The buildings here were small houses, no doubt belonging to the elves. The tops of their doorways didn’t quite come up to Crowley’s chest. Each dwelling was brightly painted in red and green and gold. Lights and candy canes dazzled the gardens lining the streets. The streets themselves were mysteriously void of elves. Crowley absentmindedly snatched a peppermint stick for later and wondered if these decorations were an all year round type of deal or if the place was especially festive for the season. He grabbed a second candy to share with Aziraphale when he returned to London. 

Crowley passed suddenly into a different section of the town. The streets here were filled with bustling elves, each no higher than his waist and dressed in red and green clothes. None of them paid him any mind, despite the obvious fact that he didn’t belong here. The buildings were different here too. Instead of homes, small shops with large glass windows lined the streets. Inside, Crowley could see candy makers pulling taffy, toymakers tinkering at their workbenches, and sewers hard at work on blankets and stuffed toys. Crowley paused in front of a display of elf sized clothing and admired the detail in the hems and buttons. No, he scolded himself, he had to stay focused. He had trouble to cause. He adjusted his hold on the box and headed deeper into the town. 

Crowley soon found himself in yet another area. He walked down a cobblestone street edged by red brick, multi-storied buildings with rows of windows revealing various assembly lines. The elves within were hard at work, creating and wrapping presents. The elves in the street didn’t meander as the previously seen ones had. They moved with purpose and destinations in mind. Crowley himself was still ignored. 

He was approaching the center of the town now. The uniformity of the buildings gave way to a more open space that was dotted with a variety of structures. A large red barn stood to his left. In the connected paddock, a herd of reindeer grazed, easily a few hundred strong. Elves bustled about among them. They were checking them all over, brushing them down with soft bristle brushes, and polishing their antlers to a shine. Even with their obvious differences, the creatures still looked far too similar to horses for Crowley’s liking. 

Over to the right stood a gorgeous mansion. No doubt that was where the big man lived. Every inch of the place was covered in twinkling colored lights; the kind that the humans used to decorate their homes back in London. The fir trees and evergreen bushes in the garden were adorned with more bulbs, a soft yellow this time instead of colored, as well as translucent glass ornaments that glimmered spectacularly. 

Moving on across the space, at the very center, there stood a lamp post. It lit the snow around it in a gentle golden glow. On the very tip top, a stylized  _ N _ stood at attention. North. So that was the very center. Beyond it stood the workshop. It was a squarish red brick building sporting pine wreaths with red bows above each of its many windows.

The open space was too risky to pass through. The elves might be ignoring him, but the head honcho wouldn’t be so dismissive of a demon sneaking around his home. Crowley slunk off to the left, keeping as close to the shadows of the buildings as he could manage. The reindeer lifted their heads warily as he passed them. Their nostrils flared and a few of the closer ones snorted nervously. He snuck onward, finding a generous copse of trees filling the space between the paddock and the workshop. Crowley slipped through the thick branches, covering himself in snow in the process. On the other side, he pulled himself free from the branches and slithered over to stand with his back against the brick of the workshop. He slid along the wall to a narrow side door and peeked through the window. The coast was clear. He dusted the powder off of his hood and shoulders and let himself inside.

He entered into a long hallway lined with doors on both sides. The interior walls were made of the same red brick as the exterior. At least it was warmer here. Crowley pulled down his hood and stuffed his hat and gloves into the pockets of his coat. He ran his fingers through his hair to return it to its properly tousled state. He couldn’t feel properly wily knowing that his hair was stuck every which way. Adequately rearranged, he started down the empty hallway, cautiously toeing doors open as he went. He found that the doors on each side led to a series of rooms with twin assembly lines. A conveyor belt of presents ran through each, connecting the rooms. The individual spaces were filled with elves completing a series of tasks from wrapping, to labeling, to sorting. Crowley had reached the end of the hallway now. The door here had a window. He crept forward and glanced through. The room beyond was vast with piles of presents laid in a seemingly random pattern on the floor. Each stack was labeled with a signpost listing the name of a major city. The conveyor belts streaming from the sorting rooms carried the presents in the appropriate direction while elves scurried about, taking the packages and tossing them onto the heaps. Only a handful of the pint sized people were around, leaving Crowley confident enough to slip through the doorway and along the wall. He made for the back corner, betting that area was the least visited and, therefore, the best suited to his purposes. 

The chosen corner was, as expected, deserted. Even the corner pile, “Tokyo,” and the next big heap, “Beijing,” had been apparently abandoned, at least for the time being. Crowley set down his box and slipped out of his coat. He subdued the wide grin threatening to erupt across his face into a small, sly smile. Right. Time to get to work. 

Crowley started off simply by switching the tags on a handful of randomly chosen packages. That quickly bored him so he started mixing up the piles themselves, tossing carefully wrapped gifts between the two heaps. This was a lot more fun. An hour later, with the piles mixed to Crowley’s satisfaction, he sat cross-legged beside his box and admired his work. This was some proper chaos. He still had his finishing touches to add, of course. He pulled the box to him and rummaged through the toys inside. Oh yes, fine additions, these. Yang got a generous selection of paints along with a book on splatter painting to accompany her new collections of glitter pens. Kai was gifted a box of puzzles, one of those sets that had several different pictures to do. Crowley slipped a whoopie cushion inside as an extra treat. For Emiko, Crowley managed to sneak an entire toy trumpet, the kind that makes terrible loud noises even if one knew how to play the real thing, into the wrapping around the frame of her bike. And on it went until Crowley’s box, which fit far more inside of it then one would assume upon first glance, was emptied of toys. 

Crowley reassembled the winter weather version of himself, tucked his box under one arm, and slipped out the side door nearest him. This was the opposite of the one where he had slipped in. He found himself closer to the center of the Pole here, and consequently more out in the open. An annoyance, but not nearly as much of a concern as it had been before. The deeds had been done. He could always manage to slip away if someone thought to chase him. He had gotten quite good at that over the years. Looking around, though, that didn’t seem to be an imminent concern. The only elves that were outside were on the opposite side of the space, tending to the reindeer. Crowley eyed the mansion, now only a short distance away and oh so tempting. He hadn’t seen Santa elsewhere, but surely he wouldn’t be lying about his house this close to Christmas? A quick look certainly wasn’t out of the question. And if he found the place temporarily vacated, well, no one could blame him for causing a bit more trouble. He was a demon, after all. Said demon sauntered casually across the snowy yard and around towards the front of the house. He set one foot experimentally on the first red painted step. 

Nothing happened. No, wait. Something was happening. There was a sound. A low hum was building right behind him. It was a voice. A chanting in his ears. The thin strands of hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Suddenly, the voice snapped, screaming a few piercing syllables. Crowley stumbled away and fell rear first on the icy stairs. There was no one there. There was no lurking shadow, no glowing eyes, and no more whispers. Even the wind had fallen silent. Crowley took a shaky breath. Right. So that was weird. Time to go. He stood, dusted himself off, and scurried away, intending to circle the house and get straight back into the elvish buildings outside of the center circle and far away from this place. He only made it a few steps before the voice started again. The words were too jumbled to understand, but they were reminiscent of the ancient Scandinavian languages. He turned, slowly, deliberately. The space was as empty as it had been before. The chanting had silenced. Crowley chuckled nervously. “I’m, I’ll just be going now. No need to follow me.” He took a step backwards, away from the voice. The chanting resumed, now coming from right in front of him. Whoever, or whatever, this was still hadn’t revealed any physical form. The feeling of it was drawing him in. His inhibitions were brushed aside by a hungry desire to  _ find this thing _ . Crowley took a step forward. The voice hummed in pleasure, encouraging him on. He took another step, and another, and so on until he reached the North Pole. There were runes here, etched into the metal, that were only revealed by brushing the snow aside. The ancient markings were humming to him. Crowley pulled off a glove and slid a finger over the rough cut runes. 

KRAMPUS.

Crowley blinked. He was in a different place. His hand hovered in front of him, fingers tingling as if they’d been subjected to a thousand shallow pinpricks. It was dark here, but not the silver darkness of night. This was an orange darkness. This was the darkness of tunnels lit by fire. Flames danced across the stone walls with no source to be seen. Crowley vaguely thought that this place should be bothering him, but it wasn’t. He walked forward again and came to a pedestal where the tunnel opened up into a small, circular room. A simple wooden box was the centerpiece. Drizzled wax covered most of the box's top surface and dripped down over the sides to seal the lid in place. Crowley slid a claw into the crack between the lid and the base of the box and followed it around, breaking the wax seal with a single slice. 

A harsh, cold wind whistled down the tunnel. The supernatural glow faded to black. Crowley’s heart beat faster, but the rest of him seemed frozen. The box clicked open. Crowley pulled himself back together just in time to throw himself aside. A being flowed out like a mass of something between liquid and vapor. It had dark curves and sharp points, and far too many teeth. It reeked of sulfur and other things that curled Crowley’s lip. He was something distinctly demonic, but also something incredibly powerful. This was not good. Whatever this demon was, he was trouble. He’d been trapped here for a reason, and Crowley had just let him escape. Right. 

“Uhm, excuse me, sir?” 

The demon turned sharply. Their eyes were blood red and glowed like rubies with a fire lit behind them. They gave off the distinctive impression of looking straight through you to peer at your soul. The form of the creature was a slim, solid center, with a blob of matter swimming around it. The blob was a vaguely human shaped mass with the head of some animal and far too many teeth. 

Crowley forced himself to smile and gave a little wave. “Hi, nice to meet you. Krampus, is it? I’m, ah, I set you free.”

The demon growled and narrowed their eyes.

“Right, so I just have one favor to ask of you-“

The demon shrieked, an awful sound like nails against a chalkboard with someone banging pans together in the background. They launched themselves at Crowley. Crowley yelped and lifted an arm to shield his face from the beast's claws. The dagger points sliced into his bicep, leaving four deep parallel gashes in his flesh. Crowley ducked under the demon’s next strike and threw himself down the tunnel, hoping to find the exit. He managed it, by some miracle, and spilled out onto the snow covered North Pole. Krampus was right behind him. Crowley pulled out his wings and took flight, but not before the other demon’s claws snagged into the soft flesh of his belly, slicing him open from his center to his side. He fell back to the ground with a hollow gasp. 

Crowley blinked slowly. What was happening? It was white? It was snowy? He was soaked all the way through the cloth layers on his stomach. It was cold, so why was the snow melting so fast? Was it cold? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t feel cold, but he was surrounded by snow and fresh snow was falling. It must be cold. But the snow was melting, soaking into his clothes. Why was the snow melting? He slid a hand through the wetness and lifted it up. Red. That was an odd color for snow. Snow was meant to be white, wasn’t it? He glanced around to confirm that the rest of the snow was, indeed, white. There was a low growl rising in the air. The sound was enough to stir Crowley out of whatever deluded state this was. Red meant blood. Growl meant monster. Crowley pushed himself to his feet and found the beast glaring at him.

Krampus lowered themselves onto all fours and stalked forward. Crowley backed carefully away. He didn’t think his chances of outrunning or outflying this aggressor were very good. He also wasn’t fond of turning his back. The demon jerked their head suddenly to the left, like a cat who had just spotted the elusive red dot, and darted away. Crowley, not wasting any time, scrambled into the air and high-tailed it towards London. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, the first one didn’t have too much to be worried about. This is your final warning. MIND THE TAGS!!! Stuff gets bad in this one and only gets worse after.

Crowley landed roughly on the steps outside of the bookshop, stumbling on impact and catching himself on the door. He fumbled with the handle, the metal cold against his fingers, and managed to get the door open. “Angel?” He called weakly. 

The angel stomped out from behind a bookshelf in a set of tratan pajamas and bunny slippers. “Crowley, I told you- Oh,” Aziraphale gasped, “my dear, what happened to you?”

Crowley angled himself away in an attempt to hide the wounds on his side and arm. Unfortunately, the rapidly expanding pool of blood on the floor gave him away. Well, that and the fact that the movement caused him to stumble again. “Ngk!” Aziraphale rushed forward and caught him, careful not to put pressure on any of the obvious injuries. He pulled the demon’s unmangled arm over his shoulder and helped him to the back room’s couch. Crowley sank gratefully into the softness with a quiet sigh. 

Aziraphale miracled Crowley’s shirt away with a snap. Crowley smiled teasingly up at him. “Eager, are we, angel?”

Aziraphale smiled softly back. “Very eager to keep you from discorporating. Now behave.”

Crowley hummed as Aziraphale’s fingers pressed lightly over the slices in his stomach. His eyes drifted closed and he allowed the painless world of dreams to take him.

Aziraphale was perched on the table by the couch when Crowley awoke. He was trying, but failing, to read a book with a worn, navy blue cover. The angel glanced over and Crowley met his eyes. “Crowley!” Aziraphale tossed his book, not at all carefully, onto the table beside him. The angel was standing and hovering over him now. “Crowley, I was worried. I couldn’t heal your wounds. What on earth happened to you?” 

“Oh, ah.” Crowley shuffled his good arm over his body and brushed a fingertip over one of the wounds. He flinched away and pulled his finger up to look. A bit of watery blood reddened the tip, but the fluid wasn’t draining out of him like he was a burst water balloon anymore, which was a good sign. “Yeah-“

“I think I should try and stitch the wounds. It would help keep them from getting worse at the very least.”

“Yeah-“

Aziraphale miracled up a curved needle, already threaded. Crowley winced as the needle pierced the already tender skin around one of the slices on his arm. Aziraphale let his spare hand wander up to card through Crowley’s hair between stitches. Small comforts. 

“You didn’t answer my first question,” Aziraphale prompted. 

“Oh?”

“What caused this?”

“Yeah, right, uh, was a demon.”

Aziraphale paused in his stitching. “A demon? Crowley? A demon attacked you?”

“Well, not exactly. Was pokin round where I shouldn’t’ve been. Got in a bit of a scuffle. No big deal. Well, it kind of is a big deal, just not a ‘we’re in trouble’ kind of deal, more of a ‘the world as a whole is in trouble,’ and yeah it’s kind of my fault.” Crowley smiled in the appeasing way that a puppy who had just chewed up a slipper might try. It was the kind of smile that said,  _ yes I did a bad thing but I really couldn’t help myself please don’t be too angry. _

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, more annoyed than angry, “what exactly happened?”

“Well, before I admit to anything, I will remind you that it was you who recommended that I find some trouble to get into.” Crowley paused. Aziraphale remained stone faced. “So, well, I went on a quick jaunt up to the North Pole, caused some minor Christmas chaos, nothing terribly bad, mind you, just some confused kids and annoyed parents, but then there was this thing that happened. Swear angel, I didn’t mean to do it, the thing put me in some sort of trance. Before I knew what I was doing I had let them out, and well, I was sort of trying to stop them and then I was mostly just running away.”

“Who is they?” Azirpahale asked evenly. 

“They? Oh, uh, right. Krampus. The demon of Yule.”

“Crowley!” Crowley flinched, earning him a second, gentler admonishment from messing up Aziraphale’s stitching. “Do you know how much effort it took for us to trap him?”

“Trap him? You? And who is us?”

“St. Nicholas and I.”

“What? You two know each other?”

“Well, I’d say so. I am the one who gave him his, so called, Christmas magic.”

“You?” Aziraphale tied off the last stitch in his side and Crowley sat up, wincing a bit as it pulled. 

“How does that feel?”

Crowley twisted experimentally and winced again. “Not terrible,” he lied. He miracled himself a new shirt with a snap.

Aziraphale had that knowing look in his eyes that said he wasn’t buying it. “Right, up you get then, we need to go up north.”

“North? Aziraphale-“

“No arguing, Crowley. You made this mess, now we must clean it up before tonight.”

“M’not arguing. It’s only, well, I left my Bentley up there. Left in quite a hurry, as you might imagine. And I don’t think I’m up to flying that distance again at the moment.”

“No worries, dear boy, right this way.” Crowley followed Aziraphale out of the back room. The pre-dawn light slipped in through the windows. At the center of his bookshop, Aziraphale pulled away his rug to reveal a pre drawn portal. Clever angel. “Now, I usually just use this for communications purposes, but it does have the capability to act as a physical portal to Heaven and, thanks to a twin portal maintained at the North Pole, it can take us up there as well.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the circle lit up with a striking magenta light. 

Aziraphale stepped through the portal with Crowley following closely behind. The Golden-red dawn of London faded behind them and they emerged into the silver night of long winter. They had stepped out into the familiar center of the North Pole. Four gently curving pathways met where they stood now; on a circle etched into the stone. It was identical to the one back at Aziraphale’s shop. One of the paths came from the workshop. This was the straightest of them. The second path, the one from the barn, made a gentle S through the snow. The path from the main house was a wide arc that swooped around a small stand of pine trees adorned with Christmas colors. The final path split into a loop that encircled the pole itself. It wasn’t more than a dozen paces away from them. Crowley shivered. 

Things had changed since he’d been here last. The elves were nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t just the absence of people, though, it was the absence of their sounds. The gentle noises of life had all faded away: elves chattering, bells ringing, reindeer snorting. The only sounds left behind were the occasional whistle of the wind between the buildings and the subsequent brush of pine branches against one another. The snow that fell around them in puffy clumps were silent.

“Where is everyone?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley closed his eyes. His nostrils flared to take in the scents. If there was a demon within fifty miles he’d be able to sense them. The sulfuric scents were faint and fading. The coast was clear. “The demon’s gone at least.” He took a moment longer. The remaining smells were mixed and muddled. There was blood; mostly his, some not. No elves seemed to be close at present, but it was hard to tell with the air so cold and dry. He opened his eyes and shook his head. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath and started off toward the workshop. Inside the main doors, the piles of gifts had been trampled and trashed. The conveyor belts chugged dutifully on, but carried no new presents. Aziraphale followed the hallway, reversing the path Crowley had taken earlier. Every door was flung open. A few drops of blood dotted the floor here and there. Crowley’s heartbeat faltered.  _ They’re fine. They got away. They must have just cut themselves a bit. _ Aziraphale went out the side door. Crowley pulled his coat tighter around himself as he followed.

Any tracks that the elves would have left had long been covered by freshly fallen snow. Aziraphale trudged right into the whiteness, circling around the same trees that Crowley had used for cover, and headed for the barn. Crowley followed, hands in his pockets and eyes downcast. 

A flash of red caught Crolwey’s eye as Aziraphale lifted one of his boots from the snow. “Aziraphale,” he said quietly. The angel turned as Crowley sank to his knees in the soft powder and shoveled away the top layer. He pulled off a glove and ran a naked finger over the wine stained sheet of ice below. Blood. Crowley looked back up to Aziraphale, his eyes filled with sorrow. Aziraphale knelt down where he was, a few steps away, and brushed the fresh snow aside. More blood. He took a few steps to the side. More blood again. 

The cold was freezing Crowley’s tears into painful ice crystals in the corners of his eyes. He rubbed them away with a whimper. “I’m sssorry, angel. I didn’t mean to do thisss. I alwayssscrew everything up. Isss like it jussst happensss. I’m ssso terrible.”

“Shhh.” Aziraphale returned to Crowley and wrapped his arms around the demon's thin shoulders. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be alright.” Crowley’s whimpers faded as he pressed his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale let him rest there for a few minutes before nudging him gently away. “We have to keep going.” Crowley nodded and allowed Aziraphale to pull him to his feet. They pressed on towards the barn, the thought of the bloody field hidden below carefully sequestered in a corner of Crowley’s mind. 

The barn was empty on first glance, the reindeer and elves long gone, but the scent of sulfur was thick here. Krampus had lingered in this place. Crowley stepped forward, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Aziraphale, not having the eyes needed for this, snapped a light into existence. 

Crowley gasped as the scene came into view before him. Easily a hundred tiny elvin bodies lay sprawled over the stone floor. They had been pierced, slashed, and gored until they were almost unrecognizable. From each, Krampus had taken the eyes, heart, and liver, and left the rest of their innards strewn about in a particularly gory fashion.

Aziraphale was retching behind him. Crowley’s own stomach turned and he doubled over, trembling as the vicious spasm pulled at his stitches. Only a bit of bile came up from his empty stomach and he spit it off to the side, turning away as he did so to keep himself from seeing the slaughter again. The taste of acid lingered on his tongue. He nudged Aziraphale back the way they had come in and the angel complied weakly. 

Outside, the pair stood pressed against each other. Crowley lowered his head back to Aziraphale’s shoulder and Aziraphale’s nose found its way under the collar of Crowley’s coat. “He must have cornered them in there.” Aziraphale’s lips trembled over Crowley’s collarbone as he spoke. Crowley whimpered and nuzzled closer. 

Aziraphale linked their arms together and urged Crowley gently toward the main house. Crowley dug his heels into the snow. “No.” He couldn’t see anymore. It was already too much.

Aziraphale let him go. “Crowley, please, we have to.” Crowley trembled and wrapped his arms around his chest and shook his head adamantly. Aziraphale stepped closer. He slipped his mitten-covered hands under the collar of Crowley’s shirt and rubbed gentle circles into the muscles behind his shoulders. Crolwey sighed and sank forward into him. “Just one more my dear. Please?” Crowley nodded and allowed Aziraphale to lead him on. 

Crowley was trailing behind Aziraphale, leaving the angel a half dozen steps ahead. Aziraphale climbed the stairs to the home and laid a hand on the door handle. He looked back, waiting for Crowley to follow him up. 

Crowley stepped up toward the first stair, but a powerful jolt of energy threw him back into the snow. He yelped in surprise. Aziraphale was yelling now. Crowley looked up just in time to see his angel being pulled through the doorway against his will. The demon had him! “Aziraphale!” Crowley leapt up and threw himself back into the barrier. It threw him farther this time, matching his fury. He rolled as he landed and noted a sharp sting in his side that felt suspiciously like stitches ripping.  _ Damned corporation. _ He was up and running again. 

“Let me go! He’s my friend!” Aziraphale was screaming. Crowley flung himself at the barrier again, receiving the same consequence as he had the last time. He took a moment longer to find his feet and, when he did, he saw Aziraphale running down the steps toward him. Crowley sank into Aziraphale’s arms with a sob. Aziraphale settled them both down in the snow, pulling Crowley’s trembling body closer. 

“It’s alright, I’m alright.” Aziraphale ran a hand behind Crowley’s neck, playing with the wisps of hair that had escaped his hat. 

“Thought the demon had you. I thought-”

“Shh. There are no other demons here, only friends.” Aziraphael pressed a gentle kiss to Crowley’s temple.

The angel shifted a bit, looking up to speak to someone else. “He’s not a threat, Nicholas. He can help us.” 

“Hmm. He’s really quite a soft thing, isn’t he?” A deep voice answered. Crowley was so caught up in the depth of it that he hardly registered being called soft. He pulled himself away from the angel’s chest enough to look up and find kind brown eyes, the color of milk chocolate, gazing down at him in concern. 

“He’s the one we saw, Santa!” A small voice squeaked. Crowley glanced down at the small creature hiding cautiously behind the man's leg. He was an elf: green clothes, pointy ears, bright eyes, and all. “He’s the one that set the monster loose.”

_ Right. The monster. _

Crowley squirmed, settling himself deeper into Aziraphale’s arms. He looked back up to Santa’s eyes, now expecting to find hate and scorn, but instead, he found that their tenderness had only deepened. “You’d better bring him inside, Aziraphale. We have much to discuss.”

Aziraphale helped Crowley to his feet. Crowley winced at the movement and the angel shifted his hold to support him more heavily before moving forward.

Inside, a few dozen elves scrambled out of Crowley’s way at the sight of him. Apparently they were more wary of occult forces after facing the wrath of another demon. Aziraphale pulled Crowley out of his coat and settled him on a couch in front of the fireplace. “Do you want to take your shirt off or do you want me to help?”

Crowley wrapped his arms around his chest protectively, wincing as he did so. “M’not taking my shirt off ‘Ziraphale.” 

Another person took on Aziraphale’s argument. “Yes you are.” Where Santa's voice has been deep, this one flowed like warm honey. Crowley glanced up. Mrs. Claus resembled her husband in many ways. Both had the same snow-chapped cheeks and nose, and both were round faced and kind. Mrs. Claus’ eyes were a shade lighter brown, closer to cinnamon than chocolate. 

Crowley sighed and reached for the buttons of his shirt. He winced and gasped. The cold outside had numbed the pain, but now his side felt as if it were on fire with every twitch of his muscles. He gritted his teeth to keep any further vocalizations at bay. “Some help might be nice.” 

Aziraphale helped Crowley remove the few layers of clothing over his chest and let out a sharp “oh” at the sight of the bare skin. Crowley glanced down. The bandages were soaked through with blood. Aziraphale pulled one back a bit to reveal the tip of one of the wounds, free bleeding once again with its stitches ripped out completely. 

“Allow me, dear.” Aziraphale stepped back to allow Mrs. Clause to take his place. “Fetch me a bucket of warm water and as many towels as you can find.” Aziraphale scurried off. Crowley watched him until he disappeared around a corner and then turned back to Mrs. Claus’ hands.

Mrs. Clause sighed as she got a closer look at the wound. “Oh you poor thing.” Crowley stiffened as she pulled the bandage back a bit more. “I have no magic here that could heal this. I’m sure Aziraphale’s already done what he can for it. If you were a human, I could mix something up for the pain, at least, but I doubt such things work on you. 

Aziraphale returned with what he had been sent for. “Anything else I can do?” 

“Sit next to him here. Sometimes physical touch is a miracle in itself when it comes to pain.”

Aziraphale settled himself on Crowley’s uninjured side, allowing him to sink grateful into the angel’s shoulder. He was relieved, at least, that he no longer needed to hold himself up. Aziraphale’s fingers running through his hair wasn’t a bad feeling either. Crowley nuzzled his way along Aziraphale’s shoulder until his nose was settled solidly against the angel’s neck. Aziraphale murmured soft words of comfort into Crowley’s ear and the demon sighed in response. The pain in his side hadn’t lessened, but he had something else to focus on now. He could still feel Mrs. Clause, and later Santa himself, pressing gently against the hurt flesh as they worked. Aziraphale kept murmuring sweet things to him. The angel’s head had fallen forward so that his lips rested gently on the tattooed snake just below Crowley’s ear, allowing him to feel every word as it was whispered directly into his skin. The sensation was pure bliss. He might not mind getting cut open again if it meant he got this treatment. He winced as the sewing needle pierced a particularly tender spot. Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. Aziraphale ran a hand over the back of Crowley’s head and whispered even more softly than before. 

At long last, the torture was over. The wounds were still burning, but he was back in one piece again. Crowley opened his eyes as Aziraphale shuffled beside him. Thankfully, the angel stayed in place as Mr. and Mrs. Claus settled into a pair of red armchairs across from the sofa. Crowley lifted his head but kept his shoulder pressed heavily against Aziraphale’s. 

“How bad was it?” Aziraphale asked.

“We aren’t completely sure. We managed to gather a handful of elves here and erected a demonic barrier strong enough to keep Krampus out. We think everyone else in the center circle was killed or fled to the outer rings. I saw him kill a few hundred here alone. We don’t know how extensive the slaughter was beyond.”

Crowley trembled against Aziraphale and the angel wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. 

“Demon, what’s your name?”

Crowley managed to put himself back together enough to look up and answer. “Crowley.”

Santa nodded. “Crowley, what you’ve done has unbalanced the world in a way that threatens to cause catastrophic damage. Krampus is a demon unlike any other. He is violent and cruel, but on Yule, he has the terrible ability to manifest himself as a child’s greatest fear. He will destroy the childhoods of an entire generation if we don’t stop him before Christmas day arrives. That means we have less than twenty four hours now. His power will shield him from ethereal magic such as that which I and your angel possess, but I believe you may be able to find him.” 

_ Me?  _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit early today guys, enjoy ;)

Crowley knew that Krampus had left the pole, but he scented the air once more to be sure. “They’re not here anymore. Not anywhere near the pole.”

Santa nodded. “Brigle, come here.” The little elf that had followed Santa outside before hurried forward. He still gave Crowley a nervous glance every few seconds, despite his master’s welcome. “I need you to organize a search of the outer rings. We need to know how much damage has been caused.” The elf nodded and trotted back to his people. 

“Now, to find where Krampus is hiding. Follow me.” Santa led the way to the workshop where he revealed a concealed lift that took them to a top floor that definitely didn’t exist from the outside. The exterior wall was glass all around, allowing one to see all of the North Pole stretched out below. Scattered about within were workbenches piled high with toys in various stages of tinkering and rolling cork boards that held blueprints for new designs. In the very center of it all, a massive globe, twice as tall as Crowley, spun unsupported scarcely an inch off of the ground. It was made of crystal with each bit of land etched out on it with perfect precision. There were no labels. No one who would use this globe would need them. 

Santa stepped forward and gave the globe a gentle spin with his fingertips. “This device was specially designed to widen the range of supernatural powers and to focus that energy towards any desired location on earth, no matter its distance away from here. It will work for your abilities as well as it does for mine.”

Crowley stepped forward and reached a hand out. The surface of the globe was cool under his fingers. The energy from it pricked at his true form in a way not much more painful than an itch, but far more annoying. He took a deep, steadying breath and surrendered his being to the force within. 

The entire world was spread out beneath him. Millions upon millions of souls called for his attention, but he wasn’t looking for a soul. Crowley focused on the familiar signature of demonic beings. There were a few dozen scattered about, most of them in major cities. One signature stood out darker than the rest and Crowley recognized the demon he had fought only hours before. Just north of the Mediteranian Sea. Crowely focused, drawing his essence closer to get an exact location. Italy. Rome. The Colosseum. The dark energy was overpowering now. Crowley growled and pulled himself out of the space. He fell back into the physical world and away from the globe. Aziraphale caught him and lowered him gently so that he was sitting on the ground. 

“Rome. The Colosseum. He’s not moving. I think he’s made a lair there.”

“Then that’s where we go,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley reached up and held his hand over Aziraphale’s where it lingered on his shoulder. Aziraphale placed his other hand over Crowley’s, giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. 

The lift opened and Brigle appeared. “Sir, news to report. Bad news. It’s all lost. The monster killed everyone. He savaged them. Most of them are maimed beyond recognition. The streets are slick with frozen blood. They’ve taken their eyes and eaten them. They’ve torn open their insides and strewn them about and eaten what they like from them as well. Many of the buildings have been damaged. I fear they may be unsound. Some have even been reduced to rubble. They’ve destroyed what they found inside. There are toys and candies and personal effects littered throughout the streets.”

Santa sighed and held up a hand to silence the elf. His face was slack with a dull sadness that portrayed none of the Christmas cheer promised in so many stories. “I've heard enough. It is as I feared. But we cannot let this stop us. We must continue on. What of my sleigh and the reindeer?”

“The sleigh is destroyed. It would be faster to build a new one than to repair it. And even if that weren't the case, the reindeer are nowhere to be found. I pray that they made their escape and were not pursued.”

“Indeed, but that leaves us with a challenge. We have no way to get where we need to go.”

“Your car, Crowley?” Aziraphale said. 

“Car? Yes! Left my car here!” He declared with elation. “It’s not as fast as a sleigh but it’s a good bit faster than walking. It’s a good bit faster than a normal car as well, if you get me? It’s just outside the town.”

“Good. Go and fetch it. The rest of us will gather what we need.” Santa said. 

Crowley nodded and made his way down the lift and into the chilly air. He spread his wings and lifted off, hovering experimentally for a moment. It hurt, but not terribly. He could make it to the Bentley. He took off, climbing higher to make it over the buildings and gliding gently downwards as he approached the edge of the town. He could see the Bentley now, apparently untouched. He landed on the street near the edge of the neighborhoods and folded his wings away. 

The slow, mechanical notes of a Christmas song rose behind him. Crowley stiffened and his nostrils flared. The smell of sulfur here was strong, but fading. Krampus was still long gone, but the eerie song continued. Crowley ducked down the alley that the sound was originating from. The noise was coming from somewhere beneath the snow. A final five notes rang out and then the song fell silent. Crowley bent down a bit, curious. 

A creature sprang out of the snow towards him. Crowley yelped and threw himself back, only stopping once he was pressed against the brick wall a few arm lengths away. With his spine curved like a snake ready to strike, he opened his jaws and hissed a warning.

Where the beast had sprung forward, there stood only a tiny toy clown. It wore a cartoonish grin and was painted in bright, childish colors. Crowley crept forward warily and nudged the strange thing with the toe of his boot. It fell over with a clink, dragging an equally colorful box behind it. He reached down and picked up the toy jack in the box and sniffed it. The toy did not smell demonic. He hissed at it one more time for good measure and tossed it back in the snow. 

The Bentley was just as he had left it, save for the ice and snow that had piled over every surface. Crowley snapped his fingers and the offending layers fell away. He slid into the driver's seat and took a moment to run a hand over the steering wheel before turning the ignition and slipping the car carefully down the narrow elven streets that were decidedly not meant for Bentleys. 

He pulled up outside the workshop where Aziraphale was busy playing with… guns? Odd. But, upon more careful observation, it was clear that these weren’t regular guns. These were made of brightly colored plastic. Water guns, Crowley realized. He slithered out of the Bentley and his nose confirmed his suspicion. He kept the Bentley conservatively between himself and the angel. 

“Holy water guns?”

“Oh, yes. We all had a long talk of being careful with them around you.”

“Yeah. Sss fine.”

Aziraphale looked up. “You only hiss when you’re worried, dear.”

“Well, what do you expect? We’re going off to fight a demon who’s a lot more powerful than me. I think it’s fair that I’m a bit worried.”

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully. “It is going to be alright, Crowley. Once this is all behind us, we can go back home and cuddle for as long as you like.”

Crowley smiled then. “That’s a risky offer, angel. I’m feeling especially cuddly after all of this cold. I may not let you up until summer arrives.”

“I don’t think I would mind that, my dear.”

Crowley sauntered cautiously around the Bentley and behind Aziraphale, still keeping a careful distance from the holy water. Aziraphale set down the blue and orange device in his hands and turned to face Crowley. He allowed the demon to grab him by his scarf and pull him a few steps away from the aethereal devices. Crowley stopped moving his feet and pulled Aziraphale a bit further until he collided with his chest, wrapping his arms around him as he did so. He nuzzled into the angels fluffy white hair, inhaling the scent of tea and stale paper and something else distinctly Aziraphale. He kissed him there, on the top of his head, and then worked a trail of soft kisses in a leisurely arc around his cheek, finally settling on his mouth. Aziraphale kissed him back then, opening his mouth a bit to taste the demon’s upper lip with his tongue. Crowley moaned and parted his own lips to match. Aziraphale’s hands wandered up, his fingers slipping under Crowley’s hat to twirl his hair and pull him closer still. Crowley copied the movement, wrapping a hand around the back of Aziraphale’s neck to hold him. At long last, their lips separated. Crowley leaned forward so that their foreheads were pressed against each other, their noses still brushing. 

The sound of footsteps crunching towards them on the snow brought him back to reality. “It’s time to go, angel.”

Aziraphale hummed in response and released his hold. He pressed one more gentle kiss to Crowley’s lips before backing away. 

Santa carried a heavy wooden box, reinforced at its edges by rune engraved steel. A box to hold a demon. Mrs. Claus carried four swords, each sheathed in black leather. “We haven’t had use for these things in many years,” Santa said. Mrs. Clause pulled one of the blades a quarter way out of its sheath. The cold metal was sharpened to a fine edge and the center of the blade had runes of silver set into it. A sword to hurt a demon's true form, not just its corporation. 

Crowley turned away and snapped his fingers to open the boot of the Bentley. He slid back into the driver's seat, crossed his arms over the steering wheel and leaned his forehead over the top of them. Aziraphale opened the passenger side door and sat down. He reached over and wrapped an arm gently around Crowley’s chest to draw him closer. Crowley didn’t resist and leaned his head onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. The angel took the hat from Crowley’s head and kissed the top of it through his hair. Crowley hummed pleasantly. 

A few moments later, the Clauses bundled into the backseat. Crowley sighed and pulled himself back into as upright of a position as he could manage. Right. Long way to go. Very little time to get there. This, he could manage.

They were twenty miles from the pole when the first mound appeared. Strange, snow laden branches split off at odd angles. Not much farther along, another of the odd mounds turned up. They appeared with greater and greater frequency as they continued on. Strange. Crowley didn’t remember passing any of these on his way here. 

Up ahead, one of the mounds spilled over into the middle of the road. Now that definitely hadn’t been here. Crowley slowed to a stop and got out to investigate. Aziraphale followed him. On closer inspection, the branches weren’t branches at all. Crowley dusted the snow from one of the antlers with a gentle hand. He looked back to where Santa was standing beside the Bentley. The red clad man walked slowly forward and knelt in the powdered road. He lay a hand on the snow that covered the reindeer's head. Tears were rolling down his face in fat, salty drops and freezing into icicles on his chin. His head turned a circle, taking in the hundreds of snow-mounds surrounding them. Aziraphale lay a comforting hand on his shoulder and coaxed him back to the car. 

Crowley lingered a moment longer, looking up to the stars through the flurry of snowflakes. “Why? I’m the screw up, not these innocent things. Why do you allow them to be punished? Why don’t you punish me? Why don’t you ever punish me?” She was as apathetic as ever. A snowflake swirled its way under his hood and melted against his neck with a cold prick. Crowley sighed and dragged his feet back to the Bentley. 

The remainder of the drive was clouded by a tense silence. Crowley pulled up in front of the Colosseum as the just vanished sun left a sea of bloody red painted across the sky. He miraculously found a parking space and shut off the engine. The four of them took a collective deep breath. The smell of Krampus was strong and fresh here. Crowley glanced at his watch. Six on the dot. Six hours until midnight. Six hours to fix everything that he had screwed up. 

They all piled out of the Bentley and grabbed their gear from the boot. The weight of the sword felt strange at Crowley’s side as he belted it in place. He hadn’t ever been much for fighting. It always ended with everyone being covered in the bodily fluids of everyone else. He was more than happy to leave the gory bits to Hastur and the like whenever possible. 

Crowley led the way through the arches and made a wide circle around the interior of the arena, trying to decipher Krampus’ movements from the scent he left behind. He followed it down into the layers below the public’s gaze. It was dark here and the air was stale. His eyes adjusted to the shadows and he could make out the tunnels leading off in every direction. From the look of this one spot, he was set to be lost in a maze before too long.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called. He was a silhouette against the moonlit space behind him as he stood at the edge of the underground. 

“Come on down. They aren’t anywhere too close.”

Aziraphale stepped in and miracled up a small orb of light that illuminated the tunnels. The Clauses were right behind him. 

“Which way now, my dear?” Aziraphale’s voice trembled just a smidge. 

Crowley took a few lazy steps down each of the tunnels and then picked the one that seemed to have the strongest scent. 

The tunnels twisted and turned, opening into vast spaces with many exits and then narrowing down to places where two people would barely be able to squeeze past one another. Crowley was quite certain he had become lost at some point after a room lined with massive cages, the kind that must have held the wild beasts back in their glory days, and hoped that Aziraphale had managed to keep his sense of direction. The angel often was better at that type of thing. 

The scent of Krampus was growing steadily stronger. Crowley had been peeking around each corner more cautiously, afraid of what might be lurking out of sight, for some time now. Up ahead, the scent grew to overpowering. Even worse, it carried traces of death at its edges. Traces of blood, raw flesh, and fear. He paused near an entry way more extravagant than they’d yet seen and pressed himself against the wall there. He glanced back to his companions, who did the same.

Crowley crept forward on silent feet. There was no sign of Krampus, but their scent was fresh. Maybe around a quarter hour since they’d been here. In a corner of the room, the demon had built a nest. It was primarily chunks of rubble pulled into and around the corner to make a sort of bowl shape. Crowley took a few more steps and peeked over its edge. The bottom of the nest was lined with a layer of death. The bodies of human children and other animals were slashed open across the chests and stomachs. Their eyes were missing and probably eaten. Their intestines were strung about so that it was impossible to tell which guts belonged to which vessel. The taste of bile was rising in the back of his throat. A stone scraped across the floor behind him. 

Crowley screeched and jumped up. A moment later, he found himself huddled into a demonic ball on the ceiling. Aziraphale was saying something. “- startle you. I’ve never been good at sneaking. Crowley, dear, please do come down from there.”

Crowley dropped back down to the floor and dusted himself off in a bad attempt at hiding the shakiness of his limbs. Damned things were  _ not _ behaving. “Not a bad thing to get startled, angel. I was just quick to react to a potential threat is all.”

“Of course, dear.”

Crowley shook out the last of the tension in his shoulders and tried to focus. The lingering adrenaline spike was not helping. Still, he managed to find another tunnel Krampus had taken. 

“He isn’t long gone,” Crowley said. “This way.”

They followed the twists and turns until the tunnel came up above ground just outside of the colosseum. Crowley cast out a ways from the tunnel exit, hunting for any trace of Krampus. He returned to his waiting allies with a shake of his head. “They’ve flown from here. I can find them again but it will take some time. They may have already returned by that time.”

“Well, we don’t have time to hope that they come back. You and Aziraphale should go search for them. Nicholas and I will stay here in case they return,” Mrs. Claus said.

Aziraphale nodded. “Don’t try and take him on without us. Just call us if he shows up and we’ll do the same if we find him first.”

The Clauses took a hiding spot near the top of the arena stands where they could keep an eye on both entrances to the tunnel, but also where they weren’t likely to be spotted from the sky or the ground. Satisfied that his friends were safe, Aziraphale nodded to Crowley and the pair took to the sky. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, final chapter. Bad stuff happens. Have fun and probably go read something fluffy after this. Cheers.

The air cooled as Crowley and Aziraphale rose higher above Rome. They paused for a moment at a few hundred feet while Crowley searched for any clues to the direction that Krampus had taken. Nothing. He made for the Tiber, deciding that that way was as good as any. A half hour of searching gave not even a hint of the demon. This was going to be a long night. 

They flew about for hours. The scent of Krampus came and went and, whenever they doubled back, Crowley could rarely seem to find it again. It was beyond frustrating. When the church bells rang out ten o’clock, Aziraphale insisted they stop for a rest, claiming that he was the one who was tired. Of course the angel had really noticed the stiff way he was holding his injured corporation, but Crowley didn’t protest. They glided down to the top of a villa. Crowley sighed as the growing tension of his stitches was relieved. 

“We can’t stay here long, angel. Have to keep looking.” 

“Of course, but we’ll be able to think much more clearly after a minute or two of this.”

A short rest later, they were off again and Crowley found that he was finding it easier to problem solve. He passed through a cloud of scent and, instead of doubling straight back and disturbing the scent cloud, he paid mind to the wind and spiraled lazily around to find it again. Yes! There it was. He eventually followed the trail down toward the ground where the scent of Krampus was only minutes old. A puddle of blood glimmered in the moonlit alleyway below him. Human blood. He touched down, careful to steer clear of the mess while Aziraphale alighted on a nearby rooftop to peer down from above. There was too much blood for the unfortunate victim to have survived, but their body was gone. The only evidence left was the bloody pool and scraps of shredded clothing tossed about. Crowley wandered up and down the alley, found Krampus’ trail and followed it for a few blocks. Aziraphale was flying just a bit ahead when he suddenly turned and glided down to land next to Crowley. 

“More blood up there.”

Crowley nodded, smelling the metallic scent strengthening as he walked on. Krampus had lingered here in the shadows around the second murder site. His bloody hoofprints led off a few steps and then vanished. Flying again. 

Crowley lifted off, hopeful that the trail was fresh enough to follow it in the air. The higher he got, the more scattered the scent became until it faded out into a cloud with no direction. Crowley growled and let himself drop a few dozen feet and started searching again. He continued on in the initial direction Krampus had taken and fell back into the scent pool. Fresh. Very fresh. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. 

A child screamed from somewhere below. Crowley curled in his wings and dove down toward the noise. Aziraphale’s protests were lost to the wind over his feathers. He followed the sound down between the buildings. Krampus was there; his dull form was a shadow in the moonlight. He had a child trapped in his claws. The boy’s clothes had been torn away and some of his skin had gone with them, leaving streaks of blood behind. Worse though, Krampus had sliced the boy open across the stomach. The demon’s face was thrusting into the wound, licking and biting deeper and deeper. The boy was still screaming, though, and that meant he was still alive. Alive and thrashing in his aggressor’s hold. 

Crowley pulled his wings in tighter still, gathering all the speed he could. He slammed into Krampus with his full body weight, knocking the stronger demon back and away from the child. Crowley's wound was on fire again and blood wept from it. Regardless, he righted himself and stood over the boy with his wings outstretched to shield him from Krampus. The other demon rose and snarled at him. Crowley hissed back in return. Krampus shifted forward, but then Aziraphale landed in between them, wings outstretched and grace shining through bright enough to make Crowley shield his eyes. When the light faded, Krampus had taken to the sky, a small, lifeless body clutched in each clawed hand. 

Aziraphale arched his wings up to take off after them, but Crowley called out to stop him. “Angel, we need to help this one.” He lifted a wing to reveal the boy huddled beneath him.

“We haven't time, Crowley,” Aziraphale insisted, though the concern in his voice was evident.

“They’ll go back to their nest, I’m certain of it. We can spare a moment.”

Aziraphale’s worry for the boy won out and he knelt on the ground beside him. “Easy now. It’s quite alright.” He healed the boys physical wounds with a gentle touch. “Now, you go to sleep and when you wake up this all will have been no more than a very bad dream.” The boy’s face relaxed and he fell limp. Aziraphale took the boy in his arms and flew up to a window three stories above them. “Lucky you live so close, little one.” He miracled the window open and carried the boy inside. 

Crowley tried to take off after him but collapsed back to the ground with a hiss of pain. When Azirapale returned a moment later, that was how he found him; huddled and stiff on the ground and clutching his bloody stomach. Crowley resisted as the angel tried to pull his hand away. 

“Now stop that. I need to see what you’ve done to yourself this time.”

“Ripped the ssstitchesss again.”

“Well, doing this isn’t going to make it any better. Let me see.” Aziraphale tugged at Crowley’s arm a second time and Crowley yielded. 

Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s shirt up to look at the wounds. He muttered to himself as he miracled up a first aid kit, complete with a multitude of bandages and a sewing kit, and got to work. 

“There, that’s as good as it’s going to get for now. We aren’t far away. Do you think you can fly or should we walk?”

Crowley stood up and winced. “Can try it.”

“Here, let me help you get some altitude at least.” Aziraphale offered his hand. Crowley took it and the angel pulled him up with powerful strokes of his wings. He set them both down on one of the higher rooftops. The colosseum was visible and, as promised, not far away. Crowley took off first, trying to glide as much as possible. Aziraphale followed, keeping a close eye on him. 

They made it back without incident. Aziraphale flew up to where the Clauses were hidden while Crowley circled down to the ground to wait for him. He sat down with his back leaned against a pillar. Before he had even properly slouched, Aziraphale was diving back down toward him at a startling speed. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. He pushed himself roughly to his feet as Aziraphale landed. 

“They’re gone!”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“I mean that they aren’t up there. You don’t think they would have tried to take on Krampus on their own?”

“Well, we did.”

“ _ You _ did.”

“Right, well, best get up there and see if I can tell anything.” Crowley said as he spread his wings. He hesitated just a moment at the steep climb ahead of him.

“Here.” Aziraphale held a hand out. 

Crowley took it with a relieved nod. Aziraphale carried him up and set them both down on the ledge. Two scents grabbed his attention: Krampus and blood. The demon trap box had been mislaid under the shadow of a pillar and Aziraphale gathered it up at Crowley’s indication. A quick walk about found blood streaked down the steps a few feet away. Too much blood. Crowley spread his wings and glided down the easy slope after the trail. 

The trail continued around the edge of the arena and down into the underground. Crowley paused to make sure that Aziraphale was behind him and then plunged on into the darkness. The glow of the angel’s light behind him and the memory of the path taken previously sped along his search until he was almost running through the tunnels with Aziraphale panting at his heels. He slid to a stop at the turn before the demon’s nest and held an arm out to stop Aziraphale. 

The sulfuric scent of demon flooded the tunnel. More hair-raising than that, beyond the doorway, there were wet, juicy sounds. The sounds of tongues licking, of mouths sucking, and of flesh rending under teeth and claws. “Hesss in there.” 

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the sleeve to hold him back as he pushed his way in front. The angel pulled the holy water gun from where it was strapped over his shoulder, setting aside the demon trap box as he did so, and stalked forward. Crowley crept after him, keeping his distance from the deadly weapon. 

Krampus was crouched over his freshest kills. The Claus' clothes were shredded and stained dark with blood. Their faces were turned away, surely a small mercy. Krampus raised his head. His long, goat-like face was dripping in blood. An eyeball dangled from his jaws with the nerve caught between his teeth. He snarled and bared his bloody fangs. 

Aziraphale raised his gun and sent a powerful stream of holy water at Krampus. The demon's eyes glowed with a fierce red light and the temperature of the room spiked, evaporating the stream in midair. Aziraphale yelped and dropped the gun to the floor where the plastic shattered. The boiling holy water spilled out across the stone where it too sizzled and turned to vapor. Crowley leapt back to avoid any splashing. “Oh, come on, that can’t be allowed!”

Aziraphale drew his sword. Crowley gritted his teeth and did the same. 

Krampus stalked towards Aziraphale on all fours. Their corporation was eerily transparent in the holy light of the angel’s making. Crowley slipped around behind them, hoping that splitting the beast's attention would be enough to give them an edge in this fight. 

Krampus struck out with a clawed hand, aiming for Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale raised his sword and blocked the blow. The demon’s claws scraped along the metal edge with an ear splitting screech. At the same time, Crowley lunged forward, slashing at Krampus’ wing. Krampus howled as the blade made contact, slicing deep into the fragile flesh and feathers. They turned and tackled Crowley, pinning him to the bloodstained stone with long, piercing claws. Crowley lost his grip on his sword and it skittered away from him across the stone. 

Krampus lowered their head down until it was only a few inches from Crowley’s and snarled. Their breath smelled of blood and rot and sulfur. Crowley hissed back defiantly and struggled to get away. 

He saw Aziraphale coming before Krampus did and threw his weight against one of their arms as Aziraphale’s sword arced down towards the other. Krampus screeched as the blade bit into their bicep. Crowley wriggled out from under them before they fell. 

Aziraphale tried to pull his sword free, but it was lodged deep in the bone. Krampus turned on him with a screech and threw him back. 

Crowley ducked around them to get to Aziraphale and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, angel, we’ve got to go.”

“But-“

“We can’t win this. Let’s get out of here and then we can send Heaven an anonymous tip. They’ll want to put a stop to this as much as we do.”

Aziraphale nodded and let Crowley lead the way down the nearest tunnel. They took turn after turn and the wound in Crowley’s side was starting to slow him down. Aziraphale pushed him to go faster. Crowley grunted and focused on keeping his legs under him and ignoring the pain as best he could manage. He only noticed the dead end when Aziraphale pulled him to a stop just inches away from it. Shit. 

“I don’t know where we are. The tunnel’s been turning but it hasn’t split in I don’t know how long. We’re cornered, I’m afraid, so if you have any last minute plans now is the time, my dear.”

The scent of hellfire was building in the tunnel. Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, but hopeful. Always hopeful now. Always believing that their side would be enough. Always trusting that, if he couldn’t find a way, Crowley could. 

_ I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I don’t have another way. _ Crowley’s tears fell fat and hot. “Smite him angel. Just end it,” he pleaded.

Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t. Not with you here. You know that I can’t.” 

“Angel, Aziraphale, please. This way, at least you make it out of here.”

“He can’t kill you, Crowley. As much as he may try, he has nothing that will destroy you completely. No one but Heaven has that power. If nothing else, let me know that I wasn’t the cause of your destruction. Let me know that I saved you.” 

_ Saved? _ “Angel-” There were more words, but Crowley didn’t know what they were. 

The roaring of hellfire grew around them. The tunnel lit up with the deadly glow. Crowley rushed forward, taking Aziraphale in his arms and wrapping his dark wings around them both in a tight cocoon. The heat surged over him, glancing off of his feathers, but it wasn’t enough. Tongues of fire swirled through the imperfect barrier, catching Aziraphale and making him cry out. Crowley tightened his hold and forced his feathers closer together. It wasn’t working. The fire still snuck in, and it was only building. “Angel!” Crowley sobbed. “Aziraphale, just hold on!” But Aziraphale was fading. His head lolled back, his skin was pale and his eyes were dull. The angel’s corporation slipped through Crowley’s fingers and fell into a cloud of swirling ash. 

Crowley fell to his hands and knees with a hoarse scream. The flames died around him as the remnants of his soul mate drifted slowly downward, falling, settling on the stone and on his outstretched hands and in the feathers of his wings. “Angel.” The word barely made it past his lips. 

Red eyes emerged from the smoke first. The most corporeal form Krampus had yet managed followed them. Only the very edges of the demon shifted like the dark ocean on a moonless night. They were walking on all fours, their back legs were those of a goat while their front were the arms of a man with needle-like claws longer than their fingers. Their face was that of a man’s with a goat's nose thrust over it. Their mouth was filled with too many rows of needle-like teeth. Two knobby horns, the color of dark soot, curled back over their head. 

Crowley watched numbly as the demon approached. His arms, covered in Aziraphale, fell limply to his sides. His eyes were hollow as he met the creature's red gaze. Krampus stalked a wide circle around him, snarling and Crowley followed their progress tiredly. 

“Please,” Crowley begged, “end it.”

The church bells from the world above chimed midnight; each dull ring a hollow echo in the darkness. Happy Christmas. Krampus tilted their head, studying Crowley carefully.

Crowley sighed. “But now you know, don’t you?”

The demon replied without moving their mouth. The sound seemed to leek from their very essence. “Yes.”

Krampus raged forward, tackling Crowley to the ground and pinning his shoulders; long claws piercing the flesh. Crowley hadn’t planned on screaming, but he screamed now as the fire swept through his veins. Krampus lunged down and took Crowley’s wing in his teeth. He bit down and shook his head violently, tearing at soft flesh and snapping fragile bone. They released their hold and licked at the puddle of blood growing beneath their more trembling catch. 

Krampus pulled the claws of one hand free with a painful twist and scratched deeply into Crowley’s chest, tearing apart cloth and flaying skin roughly from his rib cage. Their teeth sank into a rib bone and they shook, pulling and twisting. The rib crumbled into several pieces, drawing another scream from Crowley’s lungs. The next rib went the same as the first. Krampus pulled five of the bones from the left side of Crowley’s chest before he was satisfied. Satisfied, but not nearly finished. The demon bent their head again, pausing to lick at Crowley’s insides with a rough barbed tongue. Crowley whimpered as the tongue found his heart, wrapping around its edges, tasting the beating center of him. The teeth were next, tearing off strips of the muscle with reckless abandon. Crowley’s screams had run out. He lay there, trembling, soaked in his own blood and tears, and without the will to try and fight back. At long last the beating stopped. Crowley could feel the hole in his chest. It was the hollow absence of something important; a mirror of something even more important that had been torn from the same place. 

His attacker explored lower then, biting and tugging harshly at the stitches in Crowley's stomach until they pulled loose. Krampus used the opening to push their nose into his soft gut. Crowley whined and squirmed in protest of the nauseating sensation. Krampus buried a set of claws in the sensitive flesh of Crowley's thigh to still him. They nosed upwards, nudging aside the lower ribs to reach under them. Here, they found what they had been searching for. They opened their mouth and took Crowley's liver firmly in their teeth. Crowley had thought he had run out of screams. He found one more as Krampus lurched back and upward, shaking their head to wrench Crowley’s liver free from its place. They dropped the organ to the stone near Crowley’s head where it fell with a wet squelch. Crowley whimpered again as Krampus dipped their nose back into the wound to nibble at the edges and lap at the blood. 

After some time, they pulled their claws out of Crowley in favor of picking up the fresh liver to eat. Crowley could run, should run, but why? There was no one left to run to. 

Krampus finished their meal and sank their claws into Crowley once again. This time, he curled them through the flesh of Crowley’s groin and around his pelvis. They lifted him then, drawing a pained yelp from the weaker demon, and started forward, dragging their limp prey behind them. They took him back to their nest where they settled him among the rotting corpses there.

Krampus circled Crowley three times before settling himself so that Crowley was wrapped in their limbs and in their essence. The demon pushed deeper, trying to spill their own essence over Crowley’s, trying to claim him as their own. 

Falling. He was empty, and purposeless, and painful. Falling, until he hit the boiling pool of sulfur that changed him into something still broken, but functional in a different way from before. The pressure was like an itch growing inside of him. Crowley sighed softly. He relaxed his body into Krampus’ arms, his back falling flush against the other demon’s chest. He relaxed his essence, letting Krampus in, giving himself over. The blackness swirled around inside of him, tearing at every shred of his belonging. The pain was like that of pulling a thorn from your foot. The hurt of losing Aziraphale was still strong, but it wasn’t as raw. His concerns lay elsewhere now. His master licked along the back of Crowley’s neck and sank their teeth in just below his hairline. Crowley hissed in both pain and pleasure. He arched his neck up to give the demon a better grip. They twisted sharply in response, drawing more blood and a keening whine from their captive. Krampus growled in approval and licked at the trails of crimson falling from Crowley’s neck.

“Mine.”


End file.
